


Two of Cups

by Pondermoniums



Series: Omega Is King [2]
Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Alpha Billy, Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Alternate Universe - Witchcraft, Asexual Steve, Asexuality Spectrum, Basically lots of Kitchen Witchery, Billy's a little freaked out, Companion Chapter, Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff and Smut, Knotting, M/M, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Modern Witchcraft, Omega Steve, One Shot, Protective Billy Hargrove, Protective Steve Harrington, Sex Favorable, Steve collects plants, Steve's a Witch, Switching, Tarot Cards, With a side of Green Witch, swimmer Steve
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-18
Updated: 2020-09-18
Packaged: 2021-03-06 14:27:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26470375
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pondermoniums/pseuds/Pondermoniums
Summary: Billy didn’t believe Steve was a witch. What even is a witch, anyway? Some cloak-wearing, black-clad, big nosed lady with a bad laugh?Steve did have a big nose, admittedly, but Billy liked it. He liked it a lot.But maybe some things about Steve are just a little bit too...something. Magical wasn't the word. Eerie could work. Mostly Steve was a constant fire hazard and Billy somehow felt safe through it all.
Relationships: Billy Hargrove/Steve Harrington
Series: Omega Is King [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1924309
Comments: 6
Kudos: 119
Collections: Cocktober Prompt Meme





	Two of Cups

**Author's Note:**

> Hello! This is a companion chapter to my fic [Omega Is King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679707/chapters/62346331) but with a witchy twist! I was already writing it by the time the magnificent @CockAsInTheBird made their Cocktober prompt list, and when I saw Day 21: Witchcraft, I just blazed right ahead with it.
> 
> Just some things: Steve is grey-ace, but he is sex favorable. I don't want anyone who is sex repulsed to be triggered by a/b/o mating shenanigans. Billy knows he's grey ace and is fully supportive (full story on that in Omega Is King).
> 
> Hope you enjoy!

Billy didn’t believe Steve was a witch. What even is a witch, anyway? Some cloak-wearing, black-clad, big nosed lady with a bad laugh?

Steve did have a big nose, admittedly, but Billy liked it. He liked it a lot.

He liked Steve’s floofy hair and his Greek statue bone structure that he for some reason described as, “My head is shaped like a Lego person’s.” He liked how the peaks of Steve’s cupid’s bow were a little wider than most people’s and how his eyes had the slightest touch of dark green. One had to be close enough in good lighting to see it, and Billy spent a lot of time close enough in all types of lighting to know.

One of those times was when they were in bed, with Steve exhausted because his body hurt from a heat that was due to land in a matter of hours. Billy had him all tucked in apart from how the mountain of comforters had been pushed down to expose his chest.

“I need to ventilate.”

“Does your cleavage get too hot?” Billy had taunted the first time. The time he learned that Steve’s body heat was largely divided between two points: his groin and his chest. Steve had to let the flushed spans on either side of his sternum air out, or else the room would tilt in a bad way. He took far more showers than Billy thought an omega capable of during a heat.

“Swamp butt.”

“ _What?_ ” Billy had snorted.

“I know I’m not alone in this. You don’t wear those jeans and not get swamp butt. Your ass and balls can’t breathe in there. We sweat more between our legs than our arm pits.”

“When you invited me for this, I expected pillow talk and dirty moans. Not weird body function nomenclature.”

“Yeah, well, you can use my bathroom even if you’re too chicken shit to admit it.”

Billy knew Steve wore way too many colors to be a witch. Billy liked his crimson and teal sweaters. The guy didn’t even wear black, but a dark blue that passed as black until the sun hit it. Billy knew Steve stood tall with wide shoulders and long legs on the narrow side despite all his aquatic muscle. He knew Steve’s natural smell mixed with his laundry detergent, shampoo, and leave-in serums into a blend of aromas that put Billy into a deeper sleep than weed or whiskey provided. He knew Steve took immaculate care of himself. Billy knew he wanted to be the one to take care of him when his heat made him too tired to do so.

Which is how he came to know that Steve had some things in his room that were completely out of left field.

“We could play strip poker.”

Steve snorted softly into his pillow, tucked as he was into his nest and against Billy’s side to avoid the bright sun slithering through the window. No matter what Billy did to protect him from that bastard called The Sky, Steve always used Billy’s body to protect his sensitive eyes during his heat.

“You realize we’re wearing one garment a piece, right?” Steve retorted to Billy’s nipple.

“It’ll be a short game.”

Steve giggled against Billy’s skin, pressing his hot forehead against a cooler deltoid. “I don’t know how to play.”

“All those parties and you never played strip poker?”

“This might surprise you, knowing Hopper, but parties usually get busted before things reach that point.”

“I figured it was because Nancy wouldn’t let you.”

“Be nice.”

“I am nice.”

“Your breakfast sandwiches are nice.”

“Are you kicking me out of bed?”

“No,” Steve chuckled. “What happens when we’re naked?”

“I get to look at you as long as I want.”

“Ugh, gross.”

“Don’t talk about my boyfriend like that.”

“Wait, why am I the one losing?”

The alpha only chuckled while Steve crooned and hummed little sounds as Billy kissed down his hair and across his neck. He could smell Steve’s slick, the aroma easing out of the covers, but Steve shifted uncomfortably after a time. Billy reached for one of their towels and wiped between Steve’s thighs, easing the towel through the loose fabric of Steve’s boxer shorts. He grasped Billy’s wrist, shifted his pelvis again, and Billy knew the towel was catching another surge of lubricant meeting his hand.

“Thanks,” he breathed, releasing Billy’s arm.

Billy’s reply came from deep in his chest. A rumble that hitched Steve’s shoulder and made his dark eyes peek up at him before Billy rolled over him to claim his lips.

When they finally came up for air, Billy removed the deck of playing cards from Steve’s bedside drawer and taught him how to play poker. Steve somehow won despite not keeping up with any of the rules. Billy took off his underwear with all the grace of someone a bit too eager to get naked from losing. “Beginner’s luck.”

“Pretty sure you would strip anyways,” Steve taunted. They stayed under the covers, nudity kind of a moot point, but Billy wiggled his butt like he won anyways. Steve laughed into his pillow. “It’s not the kind of game I’d get good at.”

“Why not?”

“I like simple stuff: pairs in Go Fish, avoid the Old Maid, Speed—”

“Kids’ games. You like kids’ games.”

“What’s wrong with kids’ games?”

“Nothing, I guess, but you have one of those tarot decks in your drawer. How is that any easier than hearts, spades, diamonds, and clubs?”

“Oh, I love tarot.” Steve’s voice lowered like they were suddenly talking about molten chocolate lava cake or something.

“What? I was kidding—You actually use it?”

“Not regularly, but yeah. It’s fun. It clears my head.”

Too intrigued, Billy traded the deck with the tarot box—Steve kept them safe in their box. That probably should have been Billy’s first clue.

Steve snuggled close again, draping a leg over Billy’s while the latter panned the large deck between his hands, looking at all the cards simultaneously. “There are more cards here than in the other deck. How is this easier?”

“I don’t know. Just is. Maybe because it’s pictures instead of numbers. Do you want the pamphlet?”

The tiny booklet that came with the cards was barely held together by a staple. The holes had been worn out from many, _many_ page turns. Steve took the deck from him as Billy began to read the introduction to tarot. He read how it was originally a playing card deck just like any other before people got superstitious, and it had suits of wands, swords, interchangeably coins or pentacles, and cups. The deck had so many damn cards because it had a whole class of _major arcana_ cards, as well as an extra face card in each suit.

He put the book down to watch Steve shuffle them. Occasionally Billy reached over to draw one out to see close up. None of them were color-coded. As far as he could see, each one was its own little picture; the only uniformity was the object identifying the suit. The wands looked more like staffs to him, but whatever.

“Do you want a reading?” Steve perked up.

Billy turned wide eyes on him. “You serious? Or would you make one up?”

“Seriously. Robin’s mom has a book that she let me borrow. It’s the only book I’ve finished in years—Don’t tell her that. I still have it.”

“Where is it?” Billy laughed, and when Steve pointed, he padded naked across the room to get it. Steve held the cards to his chin, not even bothering to cover his warm smile at watching Billy walk back to his bed.

Of course Billy jumped to land on the mattress hard enough to move Steve around. He would’ve bounced higher if feathery comforters didn’t weigh him down. After Billy landed, an unsteady arm pointed to the book. “Pick a spread.”

He picked one of the arrangements of cards in the book and Steve shuffled until he let Billy draw the cards to place on the sheet between them:

Upside-Dow _n Knight of Wands_

 _King of Wands_ crossed over the Knight

Upside-Down _Six of Wands_

_Four of Wands_

_The Fool_

Upside-Down _Five of Wands_

“Baby, you didn’t shuffle these right.”

“I shuffle them before and after each use,” Steve retorted and then waved a finger at the card in the middle, the Knight. “That’s you.”

“Dashing. Why am I upside-down?”

Steve exhaled, “Uhh…” while he quickly turned pages in Robin’s book. “Inverted Knight of Wands is…arrogant, reckless, impatient, lack of self-control, volatile—wow, it’s like they know what car you drive—”

“Well fuck you, deck.”

“—domineering.” Steve giggled with a glance at him. “Okay, alpha. But I always like to read the opposite meanings to the cards. I think it’s all there. Being inverted is just a where-you’re-sitting thing.”

“Perspective?” he chuckled, but a surge of downright fondness thrashed through Billy’s chest. Steve, such an optimist.

“Courageous, energetic, _charming_ —hero type! How’s that?” he threw Billy a grin which earned an eye roll. He returned to the page to blurt, “Uh, rebellious. Oh. Hot tempered, free spirit. Okay, so you’re still you.”

“Swell. Who’s this asshole sitting on me?”

Steve peeked at the card crossed over the Knight. “King of Wands…” he turned back a page. “Domineering, forceful, tyrant, vicious…Um. Hm.”

For a moment, Steve didn’t seem like he would continue. They both stayed quiet over the cards until he waved a hand. “Oh! He’s powerless and ineffective because he’s sideways, which is as good as inverted. You’re in the clear.”

“Did you just make that up?”

“You’re in the clear,” Steve repeated.

Billy had to admit, “Yeah, have been since I moved out.” Steve didn’t grace that with a reply, and he didn’t have to since Billy held up the Fool card. “What’s this guy doing here?”

“That’s your future card. So that’s you again,” he smiled.

“A _Fool_? Jesus.”

“Hey, be nice to my boyfriend. That’s my favorite card.”

“Is it actually?”

“Yeah, it’s like all the stuff you leave behind to be a boring adult. Whimsy, adventure, spontaneity, and originality. Uhm…this says it’s a signal for fresh or positive beginnings.”

“Why isn’t this one the present me, then? I’ve had a pretty good beginning moving in here.”

“The cards choose what they want to talk to you about.”

“Oh my god,” Billy rolled onto his back and scrubbed his hands over his face. On the other side of his hands, he could hear Steve moving through the book.

“Okay, Four and inverted Five of Wands… the Four is what you’re aiming towards. It’s the goal card, and the Five is what you use to get there. It’s kind of the intuition card. So…Four of Wands is community, home, reunion, belonging, stability. Celebrations…parties.”

Billy could feel Steve looking at him. “Don’t say it.”

“The cards know you, man.”

“They’re paper and ink, Steve.”

“Inverted Five of Wands is the end of a conflict, truce, cooperation, harmony…so you cooperate to get along with people and presto: that’s how you make friends.”

“You’re hilarious.”

“It worked to get you a boyfriend.”

Billy tackled him onto his side, ignoring the bent cards underneath them.

However, the ensuing days made him aware that Steve used more candles than most guys did. Billy hadn’t noticed because Steve only used enough to dot around the room. When they ran out, he restocked; it wasn’t like he hoarded candles, but he definitely preferred them over his electric lamps.

But then he discovered _woodwick_ candles. The kind with a peg of wood instead of a wick that would crackle like a tiny campfire. Then Steve would just…zone out with one next to him.

Billy couldn’t say why, but the first night he _felt something_ was when Steve had stretched out over the couch, his head in Billy’s lap while they watched a movie. Steve had lit a candle on the coffee table and after a while…its popping and sizzling drew even Billy’s attention off the television. Miniscule sparks drifted off the wick, making Billy wonder how much of a fire hazard these things are, but he glanced down at Steve to see if he had experienced a similar reaction.

Steve’s eyes rested on the candle, glazed and unmoving. Every now and then his lashes would bat in half-blinks, but Steve’s breathing was quiet and shallow. Too much like he wasn’t breathing at all.

Billy moved a hand through his hair, starting under his ear to rake the hair off his neck, the way he knew Steve liked. After a slow drag over his scalp, Steve’s eyes sagged closed. As soon as his breathing deepened into the ocean sway of slumber, the candle steadied into a somber, blue flame.

Billy didn’t believe Steve was a witch.

Not when he mellowed out with his candles, or when he became a hazard in the kitchen. Steve knew how to cook—Billy’s taste buds and stomach gratefully attested to that—but Billy had seen the guy cut his thumb and burn a hole in his shirt while making waffles.

Waffles.

“Remind me why you have a knife?” Billy accused. Saving his boyfriend from himself had not been his plan when he’d been asked what he wanted on said waffles.

“To pry them out of the iron,” he defended, “and I like cutting them into strips.”

Steve looked cute and handsome in his sleep-rumpled t-shirt and fluffy bedhead, so Billy left him to it. He peeked back at Steve manning the waffle iron while he stirred the maple syrup warming up in a glass bowl floating over a pot of simmering water. “You know the bowl is supposed to cover the pot, right?”

“You’re here, it’s fine,” he disregarded, extracting another waffle and narrowly not burning his fingers.

Billy pressed his lips together, annoyed and particularly irritated at _himself_ for liking that so damn much.

Steve was too reckless to be a witch. Witches were supposed to know what they were doing, and the process didn’t involve three hundred dishes to wash. Never mind that Billy felt better for having at least one homemade meal everyday. It was like his lungs breathed better, his heart somehow felt lighter, and he got compliments on his shiny hair.

The hair was probably definitely Steve. Billy only used the shampoo and conditioner, the prices of those stupid bottles be damned when Steve leaned in to bury is face in Billy’s hair, squishing the curls into waves. Beyond that, Steve filled him with more nutrients than he’d ever gotten from Cherry Lane.

Even Max began to look better. For all the times she came over for dinner, and then Steve started making her lunches every other day, and then she just showed up for weekend brunches all too often, the Harrington household was slowly but surely filling up. Billy wondered if Steve’s parents would ever return to see their house commandeered by their son’s little family. If they would actually mind.

“Mom likes a full house,” Steve replied when he asked. “Dad just wants to feel like he’s in charge.”

“What about me? Another alpha in his house?”

“The biggest pain in his ass has always been an omega with his last name. You have big shoes to fill.”

As it would turn out, Steve’s father wouldn’t be the issue. Billy still picked up Max for school, both because he wanted to and because…what was the other option? Skating in the winter was just cruel. Relying on Joyce Byers rubbed him the wrong way, no matter how much she liked Max. The girl said herself that she could only tolerate riding on the back of the nerds’ bicycles so often. Making the Hargrove parents inconvenience themselves to do basic parental tasks had proved a failed experiment with their first child.

So Billy drove. Which involved visiting that house. Most of the time it was fine, but sometimes he just got unlucky.

Thing is…Steve always seemed to know. Of course he knew afterward, when Billy slammed the front door and collapsed in Steve’s lap for hours.

But sometimes the phone would ring while Billy sat at the Hargrove table, weathering through forced conversation and sharing half of Max’s peanut butter, raspberry jam sandwich—because they finally kept raspberry jam once Billy was gone—

“Sure,” Susan chimed into the receiver. “Billy, it’s for you.”

Odd. Billy had nobody to call him here anymore. Nonetheless, he went to stand by the counter. “Hello?”

“Hey,” Steve’s voice moved through him like warmth cracks through ice. “Could you do something for me?”

“What d’you need?”

Steve would give him a list of…stuff. Random stuff. Billy began to pick up on how random once Steve pulled this act too many times. But the first time, Steve had asked for eggs and flowers.

“Yeah,” Billy had laughed under his breath. “I’ll get it.”

He had the excuse he needed to leave, and had never been so excited to look into the bored, dead gaze of a grocery store clerk.

“Thanks!” Steve heaved as soon as Billy stepped into the house, like he’d been desperately waiting for eggs and cheap daisies.

When Billy finally caught on, however, he had to ask. “You always seem to know when I’m about to have a shitty day,” he voiced from Steve’s chest, lounging as they were on the couch. His blinks stayed closed more and more as Steve scratched designs between his shoulder blades. “Or smack in the middle of one.”

“Sixth sense,” Steve had chuckled.

“No, seriously,” Billy heard himself press. “How do you know?”

“Max kind of…acts a little different. Like she knows your parents’ shifts will be over when you drop her off.”

Billy had left it at that. Until Steve started collecting shit. Admittedly, Billy had bought him the first plant: a “sensitive plant” as the tag in the story branded, but a poke to the leaves made it shrink back from Billy’s hand. It had occupied him long enough to buy it, and made them both laugh like simple-minded adolescents. Steve took to calling it his “Billy plant.” The alpha had made a face like that didn’t entirely please him, but Steve managed to make it bloom magenta flowers the same shape as dandelion seed globes.

“Did you touch the Billy plant?”

The man himself lifted a brow at Steve on the other side of his fancy, omega suite. Steve stood with the plant on its windowsill while Billy slathered strawberry cream cheese on a bagel. “Nope.”

Steve hummed a thoughtful sound, followed by, “Okay.”

Billy got rear-ended that day.

The worst of it was that his bumper hit the asphalt, but if it hadn’t happened on Main Street, right in sight of Hopper’s office, Billy might have royally exploded. Steve had arrived within minutes—Billy learned later that Hopper called him the moment he recognized the Camaro—with an ice pack of all things in his hands.

“Shit! Are you okay?” he pushed the ice into Billy’s hands, which he tried to push back.

“I’m fine. Asshole couldn’t find his brakes.”

But Steve thrust the ice so hard into his hands that it touched Billy’s chest, where he realized his steering wheel had dug into his abdomen. He held the ice there until they got home, where he looked over himself in the shower. One hell of a bruise had begun to mark his diaphragm. He wasn’t looking forward to being stiff the next day, but Steve had set out his robe on the bed that he knew Billy loved to steal, as well as a fresh pair of sweat pants. The whole second floor of the house smelled like tomato risotto, and the candle Billy refused to admit was his favorite burned on the counter.

Lilac and sage.

“This day is cursed,” Steve announced when he saw Billy. “The plant’s been closed all day, I ran out of basil—I almost wrecked, too, when I went to the store—”

Billy moved his arms around Steve’s waist while he ranted, inhaling the soft fragrance of his skin and resting his cheek there. It gave him relief to smell the warmth of protective anger there, instead of sour fear. Billy leaned into it, silently grateful Steve could be the strong one today.

“Is it ready?”

“I just put the stock in.”

“Not the mushroom stock.”

“Yes, the mushroom stock. What’s wrong with mushrooms?”

“It’s a fungus, Steve.”

“You’re a fungus.”

Some frantic knocking downstairs told them Dustin Henderson had arrived. Steve rubbed Billy’s back to tell him he was getting the door. Verbally, he announced, “Cookies come out of the oven in three minutes.”

Billy sniffed sharply, stunned he hadn’t noticed the smell of browned butter and chocolate sooner. He pulled them out then and there, preferring his cookies a little underdone anyway—

Steve carried a lanky girl with skinned knees and bloody feet up the stairs. Dustin moved close on his heels while Steve set her on the counter so her feet went into the sink. “My good soap is in the bathroom. Dustin, get her some water. Billy?”

“Yeah,” he answered, already knowing the kid needed food of some kind while Steve dashed to their bedroom. He glanced at the risotto on the stove. “Are you allergic to anything?”

Wide eyes just stared back at him. Without anything else to go on, Billy scooped tomato and mushroom broth into a cup and scraped a cookie with a molten center onto a plate. “Everything’s hot. Take your time. Henderson, where’s the rest of your crew?”

On cue, the vibrations of the garage door preceded thunderous steps running up the stairs. Billy pursed his lips; the last thing he wanted were half a dozen hormonal runts in his and Steve’s space.

“They were putting our bikes in the garage,” Dustin replied the same time Steve rejoined Billy behind the counter. The girl chewed contently around her chocolate chips as Steve tested the temperature of the water on his hand. For a while, he only sprayed her knees and feet, getting the bits of dirt and blood off. He lathered up a sponge with soap, squeezing it over her open wounds before he gently pat the sponge over her kneecaps.

“Mm! Something smells good!” Lucas chirped.

“Hi, Steve,” Will grinned from his seat on the other side of the island.

“Hey, buddy. What a day, huh?”

Dustin interjected, “You should see the pile up at the grocery store! Somebody pulled into the lot too fast, right as like, four cars were backing up. It’s pretty awesome if you like pathetic driving.”

“Yeah,” Billy grunted, “there’s a lot of that going around.”

Mike picked up, “We found Ellie in the woods over by Will’s—”

“Why were you in the woods?” Steve asked like he wasn’t surprised.

Will answered, “I’ve got a fort behind my house. But when we heard someone and found Ellie—”

“Because of course you investigated it yourselves,” Steve sighed, already tired of these kids’ antics. He’d moved on to Ellie’s feet.

“—we were already closer to your house.”

“Are those cookies?” Lucas chimed.

The kids had the sense to not come to the alpha’s side of the counter, but Billy pressed his lips together as he slid the parchment paper over the counter for them to scavenge. Steve murmured gratefully, “There’s a second batch in the fridge.”

“Oh, I know,” Billy scoffed flatly, already opening the fridge door. He could feel the girl’s eyes on him as he cut the dough into squares.

This got confirmed when he heard Steve reassure, “He’s okay. He’s my alpha.”

The oven shelf rattled when the tray slid into place. “So whose kid is this?”

“Hopper’s,” Steve replied, drying her feet and legs.

“He was supposed to be home early,” she said, catching both Steve and Billy off guard.

The latter answered, “He’s having the same kind of day we are. His first job of the day was my fender bender.”

Steve seconded, “He’s probably neck deep in the paperwork nightmare that is a grocery store pile up. Maybe go a little easy on him when he gets home?”

Ellie didn’t have anything to say to that, so she turned her attention to the shot glasses in which Steve had put fresh sprigs of basil and rosemary from the store. “What are these?”

“My friend, Robin, talked about plants growing roots if you keep them in water. I’m tired of running out of basil. Are you okay with me calling the station so Hop knows where you are?”

The kid looked far more likely to answer no, but she sighed, “I guess.”

However a precedent was set that day. Will already felt close to Steve due to their omega traits, but now Billy had to accept both him and Ellie coming by whenever they pleased. As if Dustin radioing Steve three times a day wasn’t enough. Unlike the other kids, though, Ellie shared a certain eeriness that Steve sometimes had.

Ellie spent more time barefoot than anything. Steve kept a first aid kit in both big pieces of furniture beside the front and back door. She also got a key to the Harringtons' gate. Many evenings, after Steve and Billy got home from the swimnasium, they found Ellie with her feet in the Harringtons' pool. As much as it stressed out the sheriff that his kid walked everywhere, he knew to call their house first. Billy wasn’t quite sure how he felt about Steve making enough food to have Hopper over for dinner when he came to pick her up, but he supposed Steve liked a full house too. And it was never a bad idea for an alpha to have the law shine to him.

Billy may have bought the first plant, but Ellie bought—or stole…Billy was pretty certain she stole it—the second. A tiny pot of basil. The first smile Billy saw her crack happened when Steve hugged her in thanks. Steve nurtured it into a whole damn tree on their countertop.

“How do you even know how to do this?” Billy accused when Steve went to clip some leaves off for Billy’s chicken parmesan.

“My mom went through a phase. Landscape art. Then she messed up her bonsai and gave up.”

Dustin brought the third plant. Something he called a spider lily. “They clean the air! I read a science journal about it…”

Hopper brought over a whole fucking tree. “For your mom. And in general, your folks give you the cash to feed my kid. I appreciate it. It’s a sugar maple. No idea if it’ll ever give you syrup, but its colors get real pretty.”

Billy had no idea what they were supposed to do with these plants. Their time in Hawkins was limited, what with Steve already narrowing down his college search to whichever school gave him the best swimming scholarship. It’s not like they could just take a sapling with them. At least, he hoped Steve didn’t have ideas for that, since he planted the tree in a massive pot for the backyard instead of putting it in the ground.

Ellie was more than happy to string fairy lights in the branches while Steve excavated a fire pit from their pool storage. The thing barely looked more than a cauldron, or like a deeper frying pan that he remembered street vendors in California cooking paella in.

The kids were thrilled. Steve had a campfire skillet in which he cooked eggs and bacon for everyone to make their own breakfast sandwiches. Dustin lost one of his shoes to the fire. Max brought marshmallow fluff for smores. Billy had a good time.

He still didn’t think Steve was a witch.

But Billy knows what a home is, because he felt it every time he walked into the house and saw a white tea light burning on the entryway table. It burned when Steve was home. Steve loved tea lights. Light ‘em and in a couple hours they burn themselves out—that’s what Steve said. Billy truly wondered if he would burn the house down one day.

Regardless, Billy always set his car keys next to it, a wire-wrapped arrowhead hanging from the key ring with his scorpion keychain. Steve had brought it back for him after a swim meet.

“We were walking on the beach, and I _found_ it!” Steve had exclaimed, giddy. “What the hell is an arrowhead doing in Lake Michigan?”

“They don’t seriously call the lakeshore a beach, do they?” Billy had grimaced somewhat.

“Who cares! It’s got a hole in it—it’s perfect to go on your keys! It’s like a hag stone.”

“Excuse me?”

“Robin’s mom wears one. It’s a rock with a hole in it. It’s supposed to be really lucky to find one. _And_ it’s an arrowhead? I swear to god, if you wreck with this thing, that’s the universe telling you that your driving sucks.”

“I’m the best driver in Indiana, Harrington, and you know it.”

He knew Steve kept all forms of ginger around for indigestion; always using ginger ale to calm his stomach during heats. Billy knew Steve liked rosé wine. He liked it too, even if he only bought cheap IPA beer. Billy knew he could expect a bottle of rosé in the fridge whenever Steve was scheduling one of his heats.

“You expect me to drink pink stuff?” Billy had taunted once.

“Who said it’s for you?” Steve retorted. “Pink is a love color. I need something to make me feel attractive again after I’m done puking my guts out.”

Billy knew how to do that. After showering while Steve slept in their nest, Billy waited for bread dough to rise by cooking jams and savory spreads. Steve emerged in that big, fluffy towel robe with even fluffier hair over his puffy eyes. Billy met him halfway to the kitchen with arms around him and a kiss on his cheek. “I’ll bring a plate.”

“The smell’s over there,” Steve complained, half-asleep.

Billy nuzzled his neck, kissing the sore glands before he commanded softly, “Sit here, baby. I’ll bring a plate.”

So he dozed in their lounge area while Billy sliced bread and uncorked the wine. He watered down Steve’s glass since he was swollen enough as it is, but Billy cut lemon slices at the coffee table, the smell perking Steve up enough to collapse against Billy’s side. “You smell good.”

Billy laughed around a bite of bread and hummus. “I’ll run a shower for you after this.”

“You saying I smell?”

“Yeah.”

“Ugh.”

Billy chuckled and handed Steve his glass. Wine, bread, and a quick shower later, Steve slid over a fresh fitted sheet while Billy closed all of their blankets and comforters around them. Billy felt Steve’s leg slide over his hip, opening himself up for Billy’s fingers to slide into him—

Steve’s hand moved on Billy’s lower abdomen, close to his cock. “Can we?”

“Course we can,” he rumbled, kissing him and feeling his mind go a little dizzy at the sensation of Steve rubbing his own slick on Billy’s erection.

Billy moved down while Steve moved up, sighing deep from his chest as Billy kissed and nipped at his neck, fingers returning to massage his hole and insides. “Just…move slowly for a while.”

Billy pulled Steve’s other leg up to rest under the bend of his waist as Billy moved himself between those thighs. Sliding into Steve was easy, but he went slow, measuring Steve’s ache by his open grimace and sighs. “Talk to me, baby.”

“It’s okay,” he heaved. “I’m okay. Go deeper. You know the spot.”

He did. When Billy bottomed out and the lip of his cockhead rubbed a special place inside, Billy thrust his hips ever so slightly, shallowly rubbing there. Steve shuddered and quaked, shooting between their bodies after a moment. He didn’t soften. In the thick of his heat, Steve could cum several times; Billy’s massaging of his insides easing his aches and stimulating enough to pique every so often.

Steve reached under his leg, finding Billy’s knot. The alpha gasped into Steve’s chest, planting open-mouthed kisses as Steve stroked and squeezed. “ _Inside_ ,” he breathed. Pleaded. “Steve…?”

“Hang on, I have a cramp.” Steve coughed a laugh. A weak, alpha whine escaped him when Steve leaned up to pull himself off of his cock. Slick gushed out of him, staining the sheets and soaking Billy anew. Steve sighed and pressed his cheek to Billy’s hair, nodding. Billy pushed inside with admittedly more force than he intended, but Steve moaned breathily around him. “Do that again.”

He did, thrusting and pulling out as far as his cockhead. When Steve moved with him, Billy didn’t stop the guttural moan from escaping his chest. He held onto his omega, thrusting inside and filling himself with Steve’s smell, Steve’s taste when his jaw was pulled up for sloppy kisses. Steve came loudly against Billy’s mouth when he slipped his knot past the rim, burying himself as far as Steve could take him, as far as he could go.

Steve’s voice escaped with each exhalation, panting like he’d just run some miles. Billy stayed rooted inside, likewise catching his breath and swaying in the currents of their orgasm. He lounged and relished the euphoric nest in which Steve held him. More than blankets and food; Steve’s trust and Steve’s safety that let Billy just be Billy.

Steve’s alpha.

He stayed half-hard as Steve came down to torment Billy’s neck this time.

“Mm—ah! Ah…” he panted. Steve bit and sucked hard enough for marks to last, and Billy loved it. He loved being able to rub the sore spots later on and feel little shivers of muscle memory from their nest.

He pulled out and Steve caught the cum and slick that went with him. Billy rolled onto his back, taking Steve with him. That fresh, clean, and gently sweet aroma washed over Billy as slick moved between his ass cheeks. Billy pushed his hand into Steve’s fringe, raking the damp hair off his face and cradling his head. “I’m ready, you can put it in.”

“Huh?” Steve blinked up at him, trying to focus out of his daze to do this right.

“I prepped in the shower. Put it in—”

“Let me do this,” Steve chuckled, throaty and gorgeous. “I don’t wanna hurt you.”

“ _Steve_.” Billy crossed his ankles behind Steve’s ass, pulling him forward while he cupped his stubborn omega’s cheeks. “I want your cock in me now.”

Tired eyes wrinkled over Steve’s giggles. “You said cock—Mm!” A little precum spurted over Billy’s scrotum when he pulled on Steve’s lip with his teeth. “Bossy.”

But Steve bit him right back, on his nipples and his little bit of extra tummy around his lower abdomen. Steve loved it. Billy was growing to accept it. Either way, Steve made him _wait_ until his cockhead met the dimple of Billy’s entrance. Billy held the backs of his thighs while Steve’s knees spread wide, anchoring himself for the stability to move slowly. He exhaled raggedly, “Hahh…you’re hot inside.”

“I’m a living person.”

Steve somehow lost his balance, falling forward with his arms on either side of Billy’s torso to hold himself up while he succumbed to a fit of giggles. “Don’t say weird shit like that! I’m trying to focus—mmh…”

Billy’s fingers pressed into Steve’s scalp behind his ears, cradling his head while he kissed him deep and slow. Steve felt Billy’s moan on his lips and in his chest when he bottomed out, made hot and tingly from his alpha’s pleasure. Pushing one of his legs to the side, Steve tilted Billy’s pelvis so one side could relax on the bed while Steve hooked the other leg over his shoulder. “You okay?”

“ ‘Course I’m okay,” he huffed before stretching his head back. Steve rested his cheek against Billy’s leg, both dizzy and invigorated by the scent swelling up to meet his own glands. “Faster, baby.”

Steve rocked into him, taking his time but eventually angling his hips low so his cock dragged over Billy’s prostate every time. Slick dripped over Steve’s inner thighs or caught on the sheets as he stroked Billy’s erection. He took care to pass over his sore knot gently, but every so often squeezed or lingered to spiral the pad of his thumb there.

Billy was reeling, spiked close to orgasm only to slink back onto the steady pace inside him. “Use me, baby. Squeeze harder—”

Steve pulled out, crawled over him, and sat right down over his cock. Billy gaped as his hands dumbly found Steve’s hips. It wasn’t quite what he meant, but he would never complain about Steve’s molten heat around him, pulsing gently with his heartbeat. It was the best around his knot, anyway, having Steve’s fire around him, his slick soaking into his groin glands, and the view of Steve on top of him enjoying himself made Billy’s brain cells sink somewhere into the pillow.

He lifted his hips into Steve, moving with him in the rolling sway they both knew would get them to climax. When Steve planted his hands on Billy’s chest, the alpha held his thighs tightly, meeting his quickening pace and sudden orgasm with his engorged knot fitting into place. Steve spurt over Billy’s torso, still in the motion of thrusting even though Billy moved with him so his knot didn't painfully tug.

Billy caught him as he came down, once more rolling them onto their sides for the slow ride down from their high. Steve quickly collapsed into sleep, but Billy moved brown hair behind his ear. He watched his omega’s blush ease under the weight of his dreams. He let Steve unconsciously nuzzle him while Billy pulled out to reach for a fresh towel to clean them both off.

Eventually Steve took his usual position on his stomach, doing his best to starfish across the bed if it weren’t for Billy folding his limbs back to his body. Sometimes the alpha just picked an arm up to drape over his chest, which is how Steve woke up to find him panning through his tarot cards.

Billy looked at him when his fingertips lazily dragged over the silken chest hair. Without Steve’s asking, Billy answered, “This one keeps falling out of the deck.”

“Mm?” Steve hummed and looked at the card featuring two figures entwined by the water pouring from two cups. “Mm.”

“What?”

“That’s a love card,” Steve crooned, drunk with sleep. Perhaps that’s why his impression of the priest from _Princess Bride_ came out eerily good. “Maowage… Maowage is what bwings us togwethah twoday.”

“I thought that would be The Lovers,” Billy sassed right back, tapping the card against Steve’s temple. “Isn't that the card all the couples want to see at the fairground psychic readings?”

“I like the idea of eating being a part of love.”

“That’s because you burn more fuel than a jet engine.”

“We share each other’s cups,” Steve insisted.

“You’re getting romantic on me.”

“The cards say you _looove_ me.”

“Yeah? And so what if I do?”

Steve chuckled into his pillow, his leg moving over Billy’s under the covers. “I love you too, I guess.”

_“You guess?”_

“Yeah, you’re alright.”

“Alri—You little son of a—”

Billy left some of his own marks to last while Steve howled with laughter. Little signatures that might ease whatever spell Steve had long since woven into Billy’s bones.

They didn’t. But Billy didn’t necessarily mind when Steve, and all his strangeness, was home.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Thoughts and comments are welcome, and if it captivated you even a little bit, [Omega Is King](https://archiveofourown.org/works/25679707/chapters/62346331) might suit your fancy. (There's no witchcraft there; just some cheeky a/b/o with grey asexuality.)
> 
> [Here's Two of Cups' moodboard if you like :)](https://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/post/629609541624037376/two-of-cups-harringrove-witchyau)
> 
> [Twitter~](https://twitter.com/Pondermoniums)  
> [Tumblr~](http://pondermoniums.tumblr.com/)
> 
> Just some witchy details because I like to make myself FEEL things:  
> • Hag stones are like THE most powerful tool in the craft. You're supposed to find them, not buy them, because they're that special. So Steve giving his to Billy because he Drives. Like. That. is peak witch romance.  
> • I like to think The Fool actually describes Steve more than Billy. But if it's his future card, then Steve is his future <3  
> • Billy has no idea that he's a witch too. He cooks exactly what he knows will soothe his boyfriend, and if you've read Omega Is King, you'll know Billy is the one lighting the candles haha Not to mention that a witch has to bond with their Tarot deck, and Billy does so easily enough to have it throwing cards at him.


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